Not all fairy tales are fun and games
by The tardis is a blue fox
Summary: Young England has grown up used to the fae being kind and gentle creatures. Scotland has faced just the opposite. Spiteful and Cruel the young nation fears for his younger brothers safety when the child seems to disappear after an argument.


Scott didn't know how he'd been so stupid as to yell at England over something so small. His little brother was easily hurt and the harsh words had sent the boy toddling outside to get away from him - Scotland swore that was as far as he thought his brother had gone. If he'd known… He would have apologised if he'd known England was going to wander off. He pulled his cloak tighter about himself as his search radius stretched to the nearby forrest and he walked along its edge in hopes of seeing a flash of blond hair somewhere nearby. Light was fading fast and he was beginning to struggle to make out any shapes between the trees. "England?!" He shouted, waiting a heartbeat for the frightened reply. There was no response. Cursing Scott dove into the forest, ignoring the feeling of branches tugging at his robes and feeling all too like tiny, inhuman hands.

If it was anyone else, he wouldn't have come this far. If it was anyone else he'd have headed home at the first threat of light falling, would have at least collected his bow instead of just the dagger strapped to his side before wandering into the woods. If it was anyone else… damn it. England didn't know or understand this place - he was used to the tree's of his home and the faeries that played with him and protected him, faeries that nobody else could see except those who deserve it. It was those thoughts that quickened Scotts step, made him check beneath tree's and in their branches. England could so easily be tricked by those creatures… so easily.

He kept calling his brothers name until his voice was hoarse from the effort and the chill had him shivering even under the familiar and heavy weight of his cloak. It felt as if the chill air was stabbing through him, making it difficult to breathe and a violent cough caught the young nation off guard, making his ribs ache and his shoulders shake. It was pitch black now and his eyes failed him in the search. Scotland stopped by a burn to rest and take a sip of water to sooth his throat. He heard it before he saw it - while he was stooped to the water and its icy cool liquid was tickling his fingers. The distinguished sound of hoof-fall in water. The colour drained from his skin and he started up, his foot catching his cloak and tripping him to fall into the leaves dotting the forest floor.

The creatures steps faltered when the red haired boy fell, and amusement rolled off it. Scotland scrambled against a tree and tugged out his knife, eyes flashing as he finally caught sight of it. Exactly what he'd been afraid of. The fae were about. The black horse was a slight bit too tall and thin, appearing half starved… no, Scott shook his head, beyond half starved - the thing looked drowned. Its mane clung to his neck and its eyes were glazed completely white. Despite that its face had a very… human quality in its expression, a fact that made it appear twisted and ghoulish in the near blackness. "Are you lost little one…?" it mocked, flicking its head as if being bothered by a fly. "Perhaps you would like to climb on my back and I can carry you home."

"No ta," Scotland spoke a little more quietly than he'd have liked, his voice still scratchy and weak from the yelling but with a distinct waver that had nothing to do with exertion. He held his knife a bit more tightly as he reminded himself, it couldn't harm him… not unless he climbed on its back and let it. "But I won't throw this in that stream if you answer my questions," the gamble was high and the creature snorted in insult at the threat. But it hung in the air as the creature examined the knife that would taint its home. The blade was iron and dull - england had once grabbed it when he was a bit younger and scotland had purposefully blunted it to avoid a repeat of the experience. It was enough, and the creature hung its head, a glint of anger in its eye. "Did a boy pass this way…?" Scotland asked, trying to make his voice firmer and reminding himself that this was for england - he had to do this to find england. "A young one, he'd have been alone…"

"Your brother came near here," it replied. The twisted smile it had while it spoke imitated humanity and scotland wished he could fall into the tree to avoid its seemingly sightless eyes. "Being led by wisps and pixies… they crossed to the north of here." As it took a step towards him scotland tightened his grip on the knife once more, glancing nervously at the water. "A tiny toy like that won't stop the unseelie court."

The title made the pressure snap like a tightly drawn bow and scotland was running north before he could let himself debate the consequence of the action. His brother was an idiot, the most brattish untrustworthy and stupid child he'd ever met. And he was going to lose him… may have already lost him. Could a nation be trapped in the fae world forever? The demon behind him didn't follow, its laughter bounced off the trees and rattled up the water. It felt like he ran for hours, cursing england, cursing the fae and cursing himself for taking his eyes off his brother. He's chest was aching from the stabbing cold and his limbs were heavy when he saw the first wisp. It was in amongst the trees and scotland crept closer to it, seeing another further off into the trees.

He made to follow the next creature, hoping that his own safety wasn't at risk when he heard a tiny, barely suppressed sneeze. He stopped, glancing in the direction of the noise. Yelling risked bringing down whatever creatures might be nearby… The chances of England getting away from fae after they led him this far were slim. Still he slowly approached the source. Twigs cracked under his feet and leaves caught in his hair, rustling branches. The noise didn't come again. Scott waited in the darkness, tugging his cloak tighter to himself. It felt like an age before there was another noise, the tiny whimper of a child.

Scotland dove towards the source of the noise, forcing away leaves and twigs that obscured his path. Finally in a hollow made in amongst twisting tree-roots he got his first glimpse of blonde hair. "Arthur…" He sighed in relief, trying to force his way in next to his sibling who looked up at him with wide green eyes. However Scott was too big to fit amongst the roots. He was content with his brothers safety however and settled himself down on the other side, feeling very much like he was separated from his brother by wooden bars. Only his arm would fit through, enough to give the calming gesture of stroking his brothers hair. England shuffled towards him, and as if he was going to move out of his hiding place but the older boy forced him to still. He was safe while he was in there, and Scott wasn't certain of his ability to get them both home in the dark. For now they'd just have to wait through the night and hope that no fae go too curious.

* * *

-so just a short story that I'm thinking of making into a SHORT multichapter fic exploring scottish fae a bit more, bringing in the other uk bro's. or I may continue doing oneshots.  
I hope you enjoyed it and reviews are always welcome!  
-R


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